


A future in heaven, with you

by lightningdot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #DeanCasWedding, Castiel and Dean Winchester Get Married, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Destiel Wedding, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Harvelle's Roadhouse (Supernatural), M/M, Post-Canon, Season/Series 16, Valentine's Day, but just a little bit, dean and cas get married in heaven but also dean is dealing with his feelings for cas, deancas wedding, i didn't fully proofread this so i might do that after posting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29456175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningdot/pseuds/lightningdot
Summary: Dean and Cas get married in s16.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 29





	A future in heaven, with you

**Author's Note:**

> lowkey regretting basing so much of this off the tweets but here ya go i still had a great time 🤠

There’s snow falling outside. The first time he sees it, Dean’s surprised it snows in heaven, but now he just watches the flakes falling peacefully out the window. It’s the middle of February, according to the calendar he keeps on the wall, but time moves differently here. 

He turns to look over his shoulder when he feels Cas behind him. “It didn’t used to snow here.” Cas presses his chin into Dean’s back, and Dean stills for a second before relaxing into the feeling. 

Some of this is still new to him. Of course, some of it is old, twelve years plus some indeterminate amount of heaven time old. Going by Sam’s lifetime, it’s been about 80 years. Dean chuckles at the thought of Sam waiting that long for him to get his shit together. He feels Cas move against him. 

“I was starting to worry, Dean.” 

Dean turns to make eye contact, leaning his hands back against the windowsill. “Just thinking too much.” Cas frowns for a moment, hands stuffed in his pockets. “But don’t worry, Cas,” he begins before he can interrupt him, “I’ve been getting good at thinking some of these things.” Dean winks, shifting the mood. 

Cas sighs, before letting the smile pull at the corners of his mouth. “You know I’ve been thinking about some of those things, too,” he answers. 

“That so?” 

Cas turns serious again as he leans in, placing his hands over Dean’s and framing him with his arms. 

“I can show you later.” 

\--- 

The new parts of this are the scariest. It’s the feelings, which even he can admit he tends to repress. It’s the knowledge that losing Cas makes him wish for his own death, the first time and the time after that, and it doesn’t hurt any less when it’s familiar. The pain of losing family never does. 

Cas is familiar, and strange and wondrous and comfortable and weird and home, all at once. Dean knows this. Dean has known this for a long time, he tells himself. Dean has known that he’s in love with Cas. When he says the words, days after reuniting with Castiel after Bobby tells him where to find him, Dean can feel the truth of them unlocking something in his brain. Some repository of memories – all the touches he’d been too afraid to examine, the ways Cas had looked at him, when he was being insufferable or stubborn or cruel, the ways Cas still looks at him when he’s not feeling well and needs a reminder of who he is and what the good is he’s done. Like Cas has never seen something more holy. Someone more beautiful. 

That’s not new, but Dean seeing it for what it is, is new. Re-categorizing his memories into _Cas loved me here_ and _I loved Cas here_ , is new. 

It’s no easy task, when he first gets to heaven. He still feels like shit, and loses time driving before he can even bring himself to go search Cas out. In that time, Sam comes upstairs, and they spend some heaven-minutes together before Eileen appears, too. Dean wanders for a bit more with Baby, spending a couple heaven-days at Sam and Eileen’s place before Sam corners him at the breakfast table just as he’s about to start in on his second stack of pancakes. 

Sam doesn’t beat around the bush. His age has cut his patience. “Bobby told me Cas is here, Dean.” 

Dean nods around his forkful. “I know,” he mumbles, reaching for another bite. 

Sam shoots him a glare. “I don’t know why you’re avoiding him. Last time he died, we – you — dropped everything to go see him once you knew he was back. Hell, you were ready to let Lucifer in at a moment’s notice because you thought he was Cas.” 

“Your memory’s surprisingly good for a 90-year-old.” 

“Spiritually, I’m closer to 200.” 

“Bitch.” 

“Jerk.” Sam stands to grab a fork from the dishrack, and then lifts a pancake off the top layer of Dean’s stack. He stands there for a moment. 

“Have you spoken with him, at least?” 

“No.” 

Sam loses patience and sits down, across from Dean this time, and pulls the plate out from under Dean’s face, to his protest. “Dean. When you died, I was a wreck. You know that. But I let you go, because I knew that you were a bigger wreck without Cas there, and because I knew I could count on Eileen to get me at least through the first few months. But then I had to spend the next _40 years_ regretting that I hadn’t said something to get through your head the first time! Or the third!” 

Dean finally looks up. “What was there to say, Sam? Smack me around the head, tell me I’m in love with the guy? Smack me around for being in love with him?” Sam sputters while Dean puts said head in his hands. “Not that… not that I think you’d do that. But you know how it is, was.” 

Sam looks at him searchingly. “I know I can be like dad sometimes, Dean. I learned that over again. But neither one of us is him.” 

The pancakes still sit in front of Sam, the butter cooling and solidifying. 

“It — I know this was a long time ago, to you, but —” 

“To you it was recent.” 

“I never told you what he said to me, that day. He died.” Sam doesn’t say anything now. “He told me he loved me, Sam.” Dean’s voice breaks but his eyes remain dry. “He —”

“Sacrificed himself for us. For you.” 

Dean nods silently. “And I knew before, Sammy. I mean of course I could feel something. But it didn’t matter, you know? I mean it did, but it was never something either of us was gonna act on, and _he_ wasn’t even going to act on it, he told me it was enough just _being_ with me, and the guy’s been in love with me this whole time! And I didn’t do anything, Sam! I couldn’t stop him from dying and I didn’t say it back, I mean I think I did say it but I panicked and I don’t think he heard me, and I couldn’t bring him back from the Empty when he died before so _of course_ I couldn’t bring him back now, and I don’t know how Jack did it this time because this was a deal, a deal with cosmic weight…” 

“Jack wasn’t totally MIA after we defeated God, you know. He used to visit. Said it counted as being ‘hands-off’ as long as he didn’t use his powers while on Earth.” Sam’s diversion stills something in Dean, calms his hands from where they’re clenched around the napkin. “You should see him, Dean. I’m sure he’s waiting for you. He probably thinks you’re angry.” 

“No, I’m not angry at him, not really,” Dean murmurs, eyes far away. 

“Then tell him that.” 

\--- 

Dean finds Cas at the edge of a lake, right where Bobby tells him he’ll be. Cas likes lakes. His back is to him, staring out across the water. Dean stalls the Impala a moment before turning her off and opening the door. 

“Cas.” 

Castiel turns around. His eyes look weary, weighed down by death and heaven and loss. There’s something inscrutable in his gaze, like he’s unsure of Dean’s motives and is waiting for him to punch him in the face. Dean is reminded of how cruel he’s been to him, how quick to anger. How sometimes he feels the need to push at Cas’s buttons, just a little, to see how he reacts. 

Now is not the time for that. He steps forward, tentatively, and then moves faster. Before he can think too much about it he has Cas wrapped up in his arms, is cradling his head in his hands, is holding his face and looking into his eyes with a plaintive “You _died_ , Cas. Again.” 

Cas looks at him from where his arms have wrapped themselves more loosely around Dean’s middle. “So did you.” 

Dean blinks slowly and then turns his head, fighting the smile that promises to overtake him. 

“You weren’t on Earth for very long, Dean,” Cas whispers. 

Dean answers quietly. “It felt too damn long.” He looks at Cas, asking for something wordlessly. “Without you, pal. After that goodbye.” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking. 

Except he does, if he stops to think about it. He does know what he asks. He wants Cas, wants him in his arms for as long as he’ll have him. Wants to welcome him home, except here is more Cas’s home than his. 

He doesn’t realize he says this part out loud until Cas answers. “The bunker was more home to me than here ever was.” Cas hesitates a beat, then seems to decide against caution. “I’m home when I’m with you, Dean.” Cas holds eye contact steadily. “You know what I want, Dean. And I meant it when I said I’m content if I never get to have it.” 

Cas’s hands have risen to cup Dean’s face, while Dean’s haven’t moved from where they hold Cas’s. Dean tilts his head, leaning his forehead in. 

“You can have me, buddy.” 

“Dean…” 

“You have me, Cas,” Dean says more insistently, and they stay like that for what feels like minutes before Dean pulls away and then pulls Cas with him towards the Impala. 

\--- 

A few days later when Dean feels a little braver he invites Cas back to bed with him, telling him he doesn’t have to spend the night on angel duty if he doesn’t want to. This is the second new thing, after their love confessions back on Earth. Dean has spent the evening cleaning up while Cas sits at the table. The words come out of nowhere and out of everything. 

“I love you,” Dean says, straining to keep his tone casual. “We, we don’t have to do anything, I mean, that’s not what I meant, you don’t have to stay, it’s just, you can if you want —” 

“Okay, Dean.” Cas puts an end to his rambling. Nothing happens between them that night, aside from Dean stiffly lying awake longer than usual until Cas has mercy on him and tucks him into his arms. They spend a couple weeks doing this, stuck in some strange limbo between “I want you” and “Where do we go from here.” 

“We can’t go anywhere, Dean,” Cas says, “Unless you’re called down to Earth for a seance and I meet you there.” 

Dean grimaces with exaggeration. “Sounds painful.” 

“It shouldn’t be, actually. You can ask Bobby how it felt, he was there.” 

Dean looks at Cas for a second before he laughs. He allows himself this laughter, now, allows Cas to see how he affects him. It’s something he’s slowly learning. 

If this was anyone else, he’s sure they would have had sex already. But this is Cas. And Dean has been closeted for way too long to just give into the feelings now. _He’s too old for this_ , he sighs. He doesn’t really know _how_ to be bi, as an adult. As a dead adult in heaven. It’s easier for things to stay how they are. Sleeping together but not sleeping together. 

But that’s exactly what they’re trying to change, him and Cas. And the changes scare him, when he’s not paying attention. Or when he’s paying too much attention, and letting his anxiety crowd his judgment, when he starts to lash out at Cas for something minor. Something about Cas leaving the dishes in the sink or his clothes on the floor. And then Dean remembers, remembers that he’s in heaven with the love of his life and death, and Dean recollects himself, apologizes for once. Cas is patient, forgiving, and Dean doesn’t deserve him. 

“I’m not sure I deserve, you, Dean,” Cas says another time, when he comes home from a day of dealing with the slow to change bureaucracy. Dean waits for him with a warm meal made of heaven’s best conceived ingredients, before he goes to his shift at the Roadhouse. Dean sometimes still dreams of having his own bar, but for now he relishes being back with everyone he lost on Earth. 

He’s getting his shit together, he realizes. And they’re going slowly, too slowly he thinks sometimes, but at least there’s progress. There comes another night when he’s feeling brave. This does not mean that he is drunk. No; Sam and Cas have been convincing him to cut back, and knowing that his dad is out here somewhere, alcoholic or not, is only further motivation. But he feels brave tonight and when Cas tucks him under his arms when they’re in bed together, Dean turns and leans in. 

He pauses before reaching Cas’s mouth. Cas’s eyes are open, his skin stubbly under Dean’s thumb. “Dean,” he says, breathing in softly. 

Dean answers the unspoken. “Cas, you….” He starts again. “Do you want me to kiss you? One day, or,” 

This isn’t what Cas expects, but he figures it should be. “What do you want, Dean?” Dean swallows, hand still on Cas’s chin. They’re in heaven, for Christ’s sake. He’s dead. He needs to grow a pair. But Cas breaks his spiraling with an “I don’t mind waiting. Time does move differently up here.” 

Dean laughs and sighs at that, then traces Cas’s cheek with his thumb and moves his fingers through Cas’s hair. He leans in a bit further, takes a breath, and presses their lips together. 

He immediately feels something unfold in the pit of his stomach. It’s painful and yearning. It turns sweet and molten when Cas kisses him back. It unlocks something new for him. 

\--- 

That’s their pattern for another couple of weeks. Kissing slowly in the mornings, then a temporary goodbye when Cas goes to meet with the Jack or the other angels. Kissing _see you soon_ when Dean goes to the Roadhouse. Cas knows what he wants, and knows how he wants Dean. Cas isn’t afraid to escalate. And now that Dean knows what it’s like to touch, to feel, he’s happy to let Cas have him. 

When they do have sex, it’s easy and natural in a way Dean never imagined. 

\--- 

It’s snowing, which wouldn’t be unusual for early February on Earth, and Dean is warm in his robe as he watches Cas flip through channels on the TV. The Roadhouse is closed for repairs after the fiasco that was Dean’s birthday party. His 42nd, give or take some time off Earth. Ellen and Ash are still pissed at him for the burnt pool table. 

Cas finally chooses a nature documentary and settles back into the couch, smiling against Dean’s shoulder as their legs and sides press up against each other. Dean pretends to be annoyed at the closeness and huffs as he puts an arm around Cas. The episode hour passes quickly, and Cas lets a history program start playing. 

He’s handsome in this light, Dean thinks. _No,_ he corrects himself, _he always is_. More adjectives pop into his head, prompted by the smell of Cas’s tousled hair and the sight of his flannel stretching around Cas’s shoulders. 

“Dean?” 

“Mmm.” 

“What are you thinking?” Cas rubs circles into Dean’s knee as he says this, circling wider and wider until he’s tracing Dean’s thigh. 

“Do you want to get married?” Cas’s hand breaks rhythm, then restarts. Dean pushes forward while he has the words. “It doesn’t need to be a big deal, we can just do it at the heavenly courthouse or whatever and tell people after the fact.” 

Cas looks up at him. Doesn’t wait. “I’d love to marry you, Dean.” 

Dean is slow at hiding his grin, and consciously decides to ignore his rising nervousness. This is also a new skill he is working on. “You sure you won’t mind getting hitched to me? Being together for all eternity?” 

Cas fixes him a stare. “Well neither of us believes in ‘til death do us part,’ for one. So eternity it is.” 

Dean’s breathing stutters, so he chuckles and looks down. 

“Dean.” 

“Hm?” 

“Yes.” 

\--- 

The wedding is set for the Roadhouse after it reopens. February 14th; it’s a date. Sam makes some jokes about the corniness of doing it on Valentine’s day, but Dean is too souped up on love to care. Everyone’s invited — Jack doesn’t want anyone knocking on the ceilings, so to speak, of hell or purgatory or the apocalypse world, so he loosens some of the restrictions for the festivities. It still counts as keeping Earth hands-free until Dean and Cas both insist on inviting Claire. The guest list expands swiftly after that, and Cas and Dean only have a brief argument about it. Ash and Ellen are in charge of logistics; Bobby goes to handle John, and Sam starts preparing his best man speech with a scant five days notice. 

In the end, practically everyone they’ve ever known is invited. Not all will fit inside (that’s what the VIP section is for, and no further seating chart is made), but Jack arranges a heated outdoor reception area that can hold the multitudes of souls and otherwise. 

The snow isn’t falling any more on their wedding day. _Their wedding day._ Dean hardly believes he can say that aloud. Sometimes when he stops to think he begins to doubt any of it is true, all over again, thinking that he’s in some alternate reality or induced dream and that he’s just imagining that Cas loves him back. But then he looks over at the guy and Cas catches his eyes in a lengthened moment and smiles, so wide and unassuming, and Dean knows by now what Cas looked like those times he was lying to him. This happiness isn’t that. Cas _is_ happy to be spending his resurrected immortality with him. 

The ceremony itself is relatively simple. All of their friends, family, and frenemies are there, and Dean stares unabashedly at the way Cas’s suit stretches across his chest, at the strands of hair flopping over his forehead. 

Cas speaks first. “Dean, you already know how I feel about you. Others may have seen it first, named it first, but you know it best. You taught me to love by being the most selfless, loving person I will ever know” — Dean inhales sharply — “and this isn’t a goodbye but a hope and a pledge for the future. Here. With you.” 

“Cas. I, I’ve never been the best at this. Hell, I can’t promise that I ever will be.” Cas wrinkles his eyebrows. “But, I’m better when I’m with you. We’re better together. Always have been.” 

Sam whoops from the side before Dean can look down, and so Dean maintains his gaze with Castiel. They finish their vows, and if Dean thinks his hands tremble as he puts the ring on Cas’s finger, no one in the audience notices. 

Cas’s smile is breathtaking. That’s right, Dean is breathless and Cas is grinning, holding Dean firmly by the shoulders, rubbing a spot at the joint of his neck that normally would have Dean melting in his hands. Cas’s tie is just a bit crooked, and Dean aches to unfasten a top button or two of Cas’s shirt just so he can have something physical to fix his gaze to. But they’re at their wedding, and right now is the emotional part. Dean knows this. 

Rowena clears her throat, and Dean notices that Cas looks a little zoned out, too. He raises his hands carefully to Cas’s face while Cas shifts and tightens his arms around him. Cas looks up at him, smiling patiently and unmoving. Dean licks his lips and then closes the last few inches between them, pressing his mouth to Cas’s as he hears people begin to clap and cheer. 

Cas responds like he’s been waiting forever and pulls Dean tighter to him, pressing their chests together. Dean decides to press his luck and nudges at Cas’s lips with his tongue, pushing them open when suddenly Cas dips him, holding him tightly as he leans him back over the floor. Dean blinks his eyes open to see Cas looking at him expectantly, like he finds it funny and thinks Dean will understand. 

Dean does. He grins. 

\--- 

They’re not home until the morning, Dean carrying Cas over the threshold and shrugging them out of their shoes and shirts. They’d lost their ties and jackets hours ago. Next are their pants, which Cas starts on himself until Dean comes back to wrap the bathrobe around his shoulders. 

They’ll look at the wedding photos later. Selfies and stories are already coming in, but Cas somehow is better at social media than Dean is and Dean doesn’t mind when Cas shows him the posts he’s missing. They have the time together. 

Dean holds onto Cas’s waist as Cas leads them up the stairs. 

“Cas.” They’re under the covers now, moonlight reflecting off the wall as it peers through the crack in the blinds. Dean lies with his head on Cas’s chest, their hands wrapped together somewhere, tapping out the rhythm of one of the songs they danced to tonight. 

“Yes, Dean?” Cas’s breathing is calm and steady. 

“I love you.” 

Cas looks at Dean and smiles softly. “I know.”


End file.
